Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 345: City of Red Smoke (3)

The attendant presented the menu, a scroll of polished wood. Kyrian unfurled it, his gaze scanning the unfamiliar dish names: ribs of flame beasts seasoned with volcanic herbs, a creamy mushroom soup cultivated on fiery slopes, smoked mountain-range meat coated in black pepper, and vegetables stir-fried in fire seed oil.

Each item was a mystery to him.

"Serve me your most renowned specialties," Kyrian instructed, rolling the menu closed.

"Enough to satisfy three people," he added.

The attendant's eyes widened slightly, but a nod followed, and she departed with haste.

Soon after, the culinary procession began.

Hot wooden platters arrived in a steady stream, placed upon the table. Kyrian partook of each dish with measured calm, appreciating the distinct flavors. The spices were potent, almost audacious, yet they melded harmoniously with the prevailing heat of the locale. This was a stark contrast to the fare he had experienced at the Blood Court or the Verdant Sword Sect.

While he dined, his attention was drawn to the chatter surrounding him.

The patrons were predominantly cultivators from various factions. Their attire provided clues, allowing him to discern at least four distinct sects or clans, identifiable by symbols of flames, mountains, swords, and shields. Yet, a singular topic dominated their discussions.

Kyrian focused his hearing on the adjacent table. Two individuals, one clad in a gray robe adorned with flame embroidery, the other in a dark blue cloak bearing a mountain insignia, conversed in hushed but animated tones.

"After many years, we've finally managed to survey the entirety of this volcanic mountain range," remarked the first, slicing into a portion of meat.

"Ming Hai's inheritance must reside within the final, most perilous ancient volcano."

"Indeed," concurred the second, his eyes alight with excitement.

"Following numerous collaborative expeditions, we've pinpointed the likely location of his tomb. In the forthcoming days, the leaders will likely convene another large contingent to scour the outskirts of the Great Volcano."

"You speak truth. However, should we find nothing on the periphery..." the first man trailed off, his implication clear.

"I suspect the Elders will attempt to breach the volcano's interior regardless of the cost, even if lives are lost."

"Should we succeed in acquiring Ming Hai's inheritance..." the second man couldn't suppress a smile.

"Every life lost would be a worthy price."

Kyrian continued his meal, chewing deliberately as he absorbed this unearthed intelligence.

Ming Hai.

The name was unfamiliar, but the reverent manner of speech and the palpable ambition conveyed that this individual must have been an exceptionally potent cultivator. Likely someone who had reached the Spiritual Fusion Realm, or perhaps even higher.

An inheritance of such magnitude would be sufficient motivation for multiple 5th-level forces to forge a temporary alliance, if only for a fleeting period.

Kyrian harbored no immediate desire for involvement.

He was merely a traveler passing through. His intention was to remain in the city for a few days to recuperate before resuming his journey. The Central Territory remained a considerable distance away.

Nevertheless, he continued to passively gather snippets of conversation.

The majority centered on the inheritance: conjecture about the nature of the techniques Ming Hai might have left behind, speculation on whether legendary fire-attributed treasures would be found, or perhaps even a method for commanding lava itself.

Some spoke of the inherent dangers of the Great Volcano, a place where even Elders at the zenith of Core Formation displayed hesitation to venture.

He concluded his meal, delicately wiped his lips with a linen napkin, and summoned the attendant.

"What is the total?" he inquired.

The young woman calculated the sum.

Kyrian settled the bill with a mid-grade spirit stone, generously adding a substantial tip.

The attendant offered a deep, respectful bow, still subtly affected by the chilling aura that seemed to linger in the vicinity even after he had risen from his seat.

...

Re-emerging onto the thoroughfare, the oppressive heat enveloped him once more. However, his personal ice barrier maintained a comfortable buffer against the ambient temperature.

As he strolled along the main street, his gaze was arrested by a strategically located establishment – a purveyor of fine garments. Its facade exuded an air of sophistication, with elegant fabrics displayed in the window and a finely carved wooden sign.

"Volcano Garments," the sign proclaimed.

Kyrian resolved to enter.

A middle-aged saleswoman, her eyes sharp and observant, her hands calloused from years of textile work, approached him with practiced professionalism. "Welcome, young sir. Are you seeking anything in particular? We offer robes suitable for formal affairs, combat attire fortified with Qi, and lightweight cloaks for your travels."

Different colors would match better with his various types of eyes. Ice eyes would complement blue or white hues. Sword eyes would pair well with green or black. Crimson eyes would naturally go with red.

"I’ll take all of these," Kyrian declared, indicating the robes he had chosen.

"And two more cloaks. And two mantles."

The saleswoman blinked, taken aback by the large order.

"Sir… this is quite a purchase. Are you certain?"

"I am," he affirmed.

She quickly tallied the cost.

"Five thousand low-grade spirit stones, sir."

Kyrian paid without a second thought. The garments were stowed away in his spatial ring; their minimal bulk would take up little room given the ring's considerable capacity. He nodded his thanks.

He departed, feeling content.

...

His next objective was to find an inn.

He didn't have to search far. Just a few blocks from the clothing shop, a stone building with wrought-iron balconies and ornate golden plaques at its entrance caught his eye.

"Golden Ash Pavilion."

The sign displayed the establishment's name in elegantly hand-carved lettering.

Its appearance exuded class, with guards stationed at the door, clad in light armor and carrying short spears. The interior hall was expansive, furnished with dark leather sofas, glittering crystal chandeliers, and a gleaming marble counter.

Kyrian arranged to rent the finest room available for three days.

The receptionist, a young woman dressed in refined attire, couldn't conceal her surprise when Kyrian paid upfront using mid-grade stones. She personally escorted him to the top-floor room, which offered a commanding view.

The chamber was spacious, featuring a large, dark wood bed, a study table, and a private balcony. Kyrian opened the balcony doors and stepped outside.

Below him, the city unfolded, a vast expanse of dark rooftops and winding streets. In the distance, the silhouette of a grand volcano loomed, its red smoke lazily ascending into the sky. The setting sun cast hues of orange and purple upon the smoke as it dipped behind the mountain.

It was a paradoxically beautiful sight.

Kyrian indulged in a hot bath, finding a touch of irony in using hot water in such a hot locale, and changed into fresh clothes. He donned one of the new robes, the ice-blue one, which harmonized perfectly with his current eye color.

Then, he reclined on the plush bed.

The ceiling was high, adorned with dark wooden beams. Kyrian gazed at them for a considerable time, his thoughts drifting.

The day had been long, yet fulfilling. For the first time in weeks, he experienced a sense of genuine solitude, but not in an unpleasant way. It was a tranquil aloneness. A fresh start.

He closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, his plan was to explore the city further. He intended to uncover what else the City of Red Smoke held, its bustling markets, its established powers.

And, possibly, he might glean more information about the inheritance left by Ming Hai.

Kyrian drifted off to sleep, serenaded by the distant hum of the city below and the cooling heat of the volcano as night enveloped the land.